


tell them that you’re only mine

by scenedenial



Category: Tiny Meat Gang (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationship, M/M, Sexual Content, Slice of Life, cody’s POV, i wrote this in literally 45 minutes bcus I needed a break from angst, messy love, plotless domestic moments, this is short and shitty, way softer than the last few things I’ve written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 20:57:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20279719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scenedenial/pseuds/scenedenial
Summary: Noel comes home from the store with a new comforter for his bedroom that has more or less becometheirbedroom. And Cody is so used to attaching theours, we, me and Noel, usto most everything in his life so, really, what’s one more





	tell them that you’re only mine

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory RPF disclaimer: none of this is meant to be taken seriously, and it doesn’t reflect how I actually think these people who I love and respect live their lives. Please don’t send it to anyone affiliated with them :’)

A year passes; Cody hits 500 thousand subs, then a million. When twenty nine rolls around, Noel puts candles in a store-bought cake with sprinkles and films Cody blowing them out on his Sony Alpha 7. Noel breaks his big toe flubbing a kickflip onto hot, solid concrete. It rains for two weeks straight in December, Noah’s arc and all the dying creatures and Noel’s palms pressed against tearstained glass with something like wonder in his face. 

“Tell me if it hurts.” Is what Noel says the first time he kneels in front of Cody and eases inside him with a slowness like molasses, like sugar dissolving in water. And it _does_ and Cody says nothing because he cannot bring himself to want to stop it. A bead of sweat travels from Noel’s sternum to his ribcage and Cody catches it on the pad of his thumb. 

New Years in Calgary, Noel in knee-deep snow in Cody’s old neighbourhood, his laugh brilliant in the middle of the stark whiteness. Fires in the living room at night, Cody’s eyes going foggy and heavy until Noel prods him back awake, laughing, with a sharp elbow. A shared room because Krista has the other one, Cody’s mom apologizing for the inconvenience but nothing feels _inconvenient_ when Noel puts a hand down Cody’s boxers in his childhood bedroom. 

They lose power in the LA loft late one night. Cody finds Noel’s wrist with his own, sweating hand and Noel’s phone flashlight cuts through the extended night and makes their rooms familiar again. 

Cody gets a cold and is laid low for close to a week. Noel doesn’t exactly play the _caretaker_, but he brings home boxes of TheraFlu and boils water for tea without acting like it means anything at all. Cody dozes, in and out of a half-realized consciousness as Noel streams in the next room. Cody hears him celebrate a kill in Fortnite, probably, and falls back into a dazed, dreaming sleep.

“Fuck.” Noel covering his face, chest heaving and fingers cold in Cody’s hands; Cody leaning over him, counting out as evenly as he can manage. _1-2-3-4-5, 1-2-3-4-5, it’s okay._ Noel’s white, white face afterwards, dark circles under his eyes the most prominent piece of him, his own crown of thorns. _Sorry,_ Noel says, and Cody doesn’t cry even though he wants to.

A deli sandwich shoved into the back of the fridge, forgotten, begins to rot. Noel squealing when he finds it, holding it by the corner of its plasticky wrapping as Cody pretends to vomit onto the tile floor. The smell lingers in the fridge until Cody breaks down and wipes down the shelves with lemon-scented antibacterial wipes. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s good.” Cody responds, distracted and feeling see-through like cellophane, unable to hold up polite small-talk conversations about his job when Noel’s fingers are moving in slow, innocent circles over his knee. Noel is not slow, nor is he innocent, and later Cody is pushed against the tiled wall of their bathroom, shoulders cold like the night where they press up into it. 

They fight about things that make Cody feel like an adult for the first time for real, maybe; taxes and the chipping paint on the baseboards and the fact that Noel keeps the kitchen spic-and-span but Cody spills beer onto the floor and doesn’t bother to mop it up so that it gets sticky. How Cody wakes up at the crack of dawn and Noel can sleep past noon. How the way Noel half-yells when he’s frustrated, sometimes, made Cody cry that one time. Little things, and they nearly always dissolve later when they’re watching a movie and Noel leans over to bump his head into Cody’s like an overgrown dog. 

“What’s going on with you and Noel?” Spock asks as he and Cody eat brunch outdoors in too-bright sunlight. _Nothing much, man,_ is Cody’s response, partly because it’s true, and party because he doesn’t fucking _know_. Spock raises his eyebrows but doesn’t press it, and Cody is thankful because the topic of conversation makes sweat prickle under his arms. 

Noel comes home from the store with a new comforter for his bedroom that has more or less become _their_ bedroom. And Cody is so used to attaching the _ours, we, me and Noel, us_ to most everything in his life so, really, what’s one more?

“Do you miss me when I’m gone?” Cody asks Noel. It is late nighttime and they are high and Noel’s face is centimeters away from his own as they lie on their sides on the half-shared bed. Noel bites his bottom lip, and for a moment Cody thinks he won’t respond. But then he’s nodding, nodding and pressing a playful knee into Cody’s stomach, saying _what, did you think I didn’t?_ Cody laughs and shakes his head, even though maybe he did think that. 

Cody wears Noel’s clothes as much as his own, and soon their closets begin to mix and mingle and when Cody pulls a hoodie or, like, a pair of briefs out of his drawer, they’re as likely to be Noel’s as anything. Noel likes his eggs over easy but can’t eat them as much anymore because of his cholesterol. Cody wakes up with a sore back and they look at each other and laugh about how old they’re getting, because what else can you do? 

Noel wakes Cody up in the still-black morning to say goodbye before he flies out to shoot something. Cody rises up in bed, half asleep, to wrap his arms around Noel’s warm, close-shaven neck. _I’ll be home soon,_ Noel whispers, and when Cody wakes up for the second time to now-brilliant light pouring through the windows, he shoves his face into Noel’s empty pillow.

Cody bites Noel’s bottom lip on the couch in the living room, a car commercial droning on the TV in the background. The skin of Noel’s inner forearms is paler and softer than that on the rest of his body; Cody presses his tongue against the vulnerable stretch of flesh. The low, blue light of late evening gives Noel’s face a cold, detached cast, but when Cody presses a palm to his cheek he is as warm and real and there as he has ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> My discord is scenedenial#8297 if u wanna come holler at me abt Noel Miller or smth


End file.
